The Avenger Who Dumped Me
by The Other Jet Engine
Summary: (Earth-616 Movieverse, with Earth-199999 elements) Nobody knows why King Namor of Atlantis holds a massive grudge against the young Princess Natila of Wakanda, daughter of King T'Challa and Queen Nakia, so the other Avengers decided to step in and get to the bottom of this.


**I do hope Namor's Atlantis turns out as brilliant as Arthur Curry's Atlantis. Instead of bringing up Poseidon again, I created my original deity for the Atlanteans:Calypso, the Dragon Goddess. She is a counterpart to the Wakandan Bast. **

**This fic ties into godlygirl34's fic Baba's Night Off. **

**Wakanda and Atlantis 4evah!**

* * *

There are, Steve thinks, probably few places better than the palace of Wakanda to throw a party. And—well, Steve doesn't know her well enough to say for sure, but, if he were to make a guess, he'd say T'Challa's new wife definitely knows how to take advantage of that. She is at the center of the gorgeously lit dance floor, leading a group of people beating drums around her.

The wedding is the most colorful, cheerful event Steve has been to in years. He's pretty sure it's not actually the main ceremony - this one, he'd bet, took place in private, without outside guests. This, Steve guesses, is a party meant more for the public than for the engaged couple—though they seem to be enjoying themselves well enough.

For his part, Steve isn't doing too bad either. He spends most of the time in an interesting discussion with General Okoye about training routines, taking mental notes of a few tips. Then, Rhodes, seemingly in a moment of bravery, whisks her away for a dance.

Steve takes a moment to go to the bathroom. After he comes back, though, he finds that most people he could strike up a conversation with are busy. Sam and Bucky are whispering in each other's ears, and, by now, neither of them even bothers attempting to pretend there isn't anything there, so Steve knows to just leave them alone to avoid awkwardness. Natasha is talking to two Dora Milage he doesn't know, Rhodes and Okoye are still dancing, and T'Challa seems unable to even see anyone other than Nakia, as she grins wide and spins in her ceremonial garment.

Steve shifts, a little uncomfortable. After a moment of standing awkwardly, he decides to go to the snacks table. Many of the foods are Wakandan recipes that he doesn't know, so he thinks he might try them out.

He's just grabbed what looks like a salmon roll but smells a lot more delicious when a voice says behind him: "Glad to see you've found your designated spot."

He turns immediately, a little startled, because he didn't see Tony during the ceremony. And yet there he is, impeccably dressed in a two-piece suit that immediately that makes Steve feel under-dressed in his old, boring grey suit that he wore only a few months ago at Wanda and Vision's wedding. Looking at Tony now, incredibly sharp in his dark blue jacket, Steve wishes he'd bothered to buy something new to wear.

"My what?" he says, only now digesting Tony's words. The corner of Tony's mouth twists in a lopsided grin.

"Your designated spot," he repeats, raising his hands and gesturing to the table behind them. "One time is a coincidence; two times, though, you've got something to explain, Cap. To be honest, I'm a little scandalized—I never took you for a person who only saw weddings as a chance to eat at the cost of a merry couple."

Steve shrugs, forgetting the snack on the table. He takes his hands to his pockets instead. "That's one advantage."

"Just one?" Tony raises a single eyebrow, tilting his head back as he studies Steve as if he's said something really intriguing. The white collar of his shirt contrasts with his tanned skin.

"Anyone who saw you would guess it's the only one. I don't see you taking advantage of the romantic vibe."

Steve's jaw clenches and his face heats. He doesn't want to discuss his lack of a love life with Tony, of all people. The thought makes his stomach twist in embarrassment, even though he doesn't understand why—Tony doesn't seem to judge, merely stating it as a fact, but Steve still feels ridiculous, the truth somehow sounding a lot more pathetic when it comes from Tony's mouth.

"I didn't see you during the ceremony," he says, not so subtly changing the subject. From the way Tony's eyes dart to his face, he definitely notices, but, thankfully, he doesn't push it.

"I was late." He leans back on the table, mimicking Steve and putting his hands in his pockets. His elbow brushes Steve's forearm at the movement.

"Again?"

"We all have our habits," he says solemnly, though a grin plays on his lips. Steve doesn't want to smile back because Tony can't just be late for something as important as a wedding like that, but it's hard to not reciprocate. "Mine is bypassing my alarm clock each morning and sleeping until the bride is five steps away from the front door."

Steve can't hold back a chuckle. Tony's grin grows, pleased.

"I did manage to catch the ceremony, though," he continues. "Incredibly sweet, all the way down to T'Challa's stutter, but I gotta say, my favorite part?" He leans closer to Steve, conspiratory, and points upwards, to the ceiling. "Whatever the hell is going on with this sound system. It sounds exactly the same in every single spot of the hall, but, according to FRIDAY"—he fishes his phone out of his pocket, shaking it in Steve's direction—"it's coming from a single source. Which is bizarre, because this floor is made of wood. It should have terrible acoustics. Still, the sound is perfect. It's amazing."

Steve feels his eyes widening slightly. He hadn't noticed anything particular about the sound before, but, now that Tony mentions, it is interesting. "How does it work?"

"That's what I've been trying to find out," Tony replies with a smile. "I think I have a guess, it's in my notes, but I think I'm gonna wait until tomorrow before I give Shuri her bragging rights by asking." He places the phone back in his pocket, and then shrugs. "Pretty cool, right?"

Something in the way he says it, combined with the fact that they're still very close, makes warmth bloom in Steve's chest, prickling to his neck. Steve wants to ask why he's telling him this—why did he stop partying to find Steve and share something that he didn't really need to tell him—but he also doesn't, because he has a feeling asking will push Tony away, and he doesn't want Tony to go away.

"It is," he says. Tony's grin widens, his laugh lines showing, and Steve has a strong urge to touch them somehow. He grips the table behind him instead, not sure of what to say to keep the conversation going. "Can I, uh," he stutters as Tony lifts his gaze at him. "Can I see your notes?"

It is, apparently, the right thing to say, because Tony's smile grows to blinding levels before he immediately snaps the phone back from his pocket and launches into a rant about the wave emitting tech that would be necessary for such a system and the algorithms one would need to create it.

Steve doesn't know anything about stereo systems, but the way Tony talks makes it easy to understand. He's only half paying attention, though, distracted by the way Tony gestures as he talks, by the way his lips curls as he speaks, by how his body is practically leaning on Steve's side—by how he doesn't seem to think there's any reason to not be this close.

"Tell you what," Tony says, eventually, his hand coming up to Steve's shoulder. His grip isn't tight, but it still sends a shiver down Steve's spine. "I'm getting into the physics of it right now, so we should probably get you a drink for this."

We is another thing that shouldn't make Steve tongue-tied, but it does. He manages to nod as Tony walks him to the bar, hand descending from his shoulder to his bicep, not really pulling him, just… touching him, very casually and very close, as if this is something they do all the time.

Tony stops right in front of the bar. The bartender is a young woman, clearly flustered by his appearance, cheeks darkening when he grins in her direction. "One sparkling water," he says, winking at her. Then his hand goes from Steve's bicep to his forearm, and he gives him a light squeeze, turning towards him. "What about you?"

"Uh," Steve hesitates, distracted by the light, warm pressure of Tony's hand. "A beer."

"Okay." Tony turns again towards the bartender, still holding Steve's arm. His free hand points to Steve with his thumb. "And a beer for him," he says, and—and Steve's stomach clenches and flutters, as if a hundred butterflies had taken flight inside him at the same time. The way Tony says it, the way Tony is touching him, it's—it's as if they're together, as if there's indeed a thing going on, as Sam had said, and just the thought is enough to make Steve dizzy.

The drinks come quickly. Instead of waiting for Steve to take his, Tony picks both of them up and hands Steve his beer, as if he's bought it for him.

"Cheers," Tony says, clinking their glasses, but it's a far cry from their toast months ago. There's something incredibly focused about Tony's eyes as he watches Steve take his sip, something that makes Steve's tie feel too tight.

He watches the way Tony's mouth curls when he lowers his glass, the way it breaks into an approving smile as if Steve's done something amazing.

"Nice one." His hand gives Steve's arm another light squeeze, and he's closer now. Steve can see the touch of grey in his temples, could count every single one of his laugh lines. "You've improved your drinking game," he says. His voice sounds as if he's complimenting Steve on something else, bigger than drinking. It's almost silly, but a purposeful type of silliness, almost directed, almost like…

Flirting?

The thought hits Steve like a brick on the back of his head. He shifts in place, his mind a mess, unable to follow its usual course of thoughts, inebriated by Tony's presence. The casual talk, the closeness, the excessive friendliness – is Tony flirting with him? The idea sends a rush through his whole body, but he—he isn't sure; and, even if it is true, he doesn't know what to say, how to reciprocate. The only thing that comes to his mind, clear and desperate, is what he can't say: don't leave.

It's only then that he notices Tony's choice of drink. "You—uh, you've weakened yours. Uh, your drinking game, I mean," he says, and it's a weak joke, but Tony grins anyway, easy and bright. He's glowing, there's no other way of putting it.

"Yeah." His eyes, his smile, all his focus entirely on Steve—it's almost overwhelming, but it's an overwhelming Steve can't get enough of. "Don't want to drink tonight," he says, between a smile Steve is pretty certain could melt actual titanium. Then he swallows, his nostrils widening as he takes a deep breath. "You know, I… I have a room at the palace."

It's as if the salon shrinks, the air tightening itself, restrained only to the short space between the two of them. Heat curls low in Steve's belly, prickles his neck. He opens his mouth, then shuts it immediately, unable to find words.

"Yeah?" He manages, his breath uneven, blood roaring on his ears. Tony is so close now—leaning towards him, looking at Steve through long lashes, big hand still settled comfortably on Steve's arm, as if it belongs there. Closer than he's ever been.

"Yeah," Tony agrees, nodding slight, and now his voice carries none of the casual friendly from before. It's hushed, almost a whisper, and it grows an octave lower when he tilts his head. "Maybe we could go there?"

His voice is silky, dripping with honey and promises, but the interrogation at the end still poses a clear question, a way out for Steve if he needs one.

He's never needed one less.

"Yes," he says - too breathlessly, perhaps, too fast, but he—he doesn't know how to do this, how to match Tony's smoothness.

Tony doesn't seem to mind, though, his smile growing, his hand clutching the sleeve of Steve's jacket. He leans forward, his head turning so he's turned towards Steve's ear. He tilts his chin and his goatee touches Steve's ear, sends a shudder through his whole body. "Then what are we waiting for?"

* * *

_Meanwhile, in Atlantis..._

"What?" said a figure on a throne. "He got married?"

"Yes, Your Majesty." replied General Fluke.

"I know how you feel, my king, but I think you should..." said General Rudder.

"Silence!" boomed the figure. "And he chose a surface woman over me? Unforgivable! I shall get my revengeance!"

* * *

**Bad Ideas Gone Wrong Productions Presents:  
****The Avenger Who Dumped Me **


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